The Lesson
by Nike1988
Summary: I wrote this story because of a comment that Dean made in 5x16 "Dark Side of the Moon". Sammy runs away because of a fight he has with Dean. He spends two weeks in Flagstaff. Dean is left at the Motel and has to face his father's anger when he comes home to only find one of his sons. Warning: Slight abusive!John but in an almost understandable kind of way. Rated T for violence.


**_**Dear readers,**_**

 ** _ **I have published this story before but under a different name. I accidentally made two different accounts on this website so now I am merging them into one. So, in case you have seen this story before, that's the reason :) But now, have fun reading it and please leave a review while you're at it :-D**_**

 ** _ **The Lesson**_**

 **1999**

Dean was nervously pacing back and forth in the small motel room. Why did he have to start this stupid fight with Sammy? It had been something so stupid he couldn't even remember it. But it had been enough for Sammy to take off to get some space. Or so Dean had thought. That had happened over a week ago and Sam still hadn't come back. Dean had searched every inch of the town they were staying at, he had left him about a thousand messages but he had never called back. Dean was scared. What if he had been attacked, if he was being held captive somewhere, or, worse, what if he was….. No, he didn't even want to think about it.

The sound of the Impala pulling up in front of the motel stopped his spiraling thoughts and his pacing. His heart began to pound against his ribs. He hadn't told John, his father, what had happened yet. Surely, he would have found Sammy before he returned from hunting a werewolf a few towns over. But he hadn't and now he had no idea how to explain this. As he heard the key turn in the lock – his eyes fixed on the door – he felt like he should just run away.

John walked in, a big smile on his face, and pulled Dean into a bear hug that made him feel even more uncomfortable.

"Dean! How have you been?" He looked around the room and saw no sign of Sam.

"Where's Sam?"

That was it. Dean just stood there not knowing what to say so he simply looked down, deeply ashamed.

"Where is Sam, Dean?" John asked again and his voice went from interested to threatening and concerned at the same time.

"I…" but he was still lost for words.

"Where?!" John bellowed and Dean flinched at the sudden outburst.

"We had a fight and he ran off."

"When was this?"

Again, Dean didn't want to answer.

"When?" John asked again.

"9 days ago" Dean replied truthfully.

John narrowed his eyes and turned away from Dean visibly trying to remain calm. Minutes passed like that until Dean couldn't bear it anymore and approached him.

"Dad?" he asked quietly, touching his father's shoulder lightly. Suddenly, John spun around, punching Dean hard in the jaw and sending him to the ground. Dean's lip split open and blood trickled down his chin.

"You have one task when I'm away! One! Look out for Sammy! And instead you go and start a fight with him?"

He grabbed Dean by the collar and pulled him up only to punch him down again.

"Dad, please! Listen to me, let me explain!"

"You don't have anything to say to me! Something like this happens, you pick up the phone and call me!"

It made Dean angry that his father wouldn't even let him try to explain so he got up and stared John straight in the eye.

"You know, we wouldn't even have fought if you didn't lock us up in a room all the time and just take off for weeks. Of course, we get sick of each other after a while!"

He had gone too far and he knew it. The second his father's eyes grew darker he knew he was in big trouble. The tension in the room was almost unbearable but Dean stood his ground. They stared at each other for a moment before John unbuckled his belt and took it off. Dean didn't have more than a split second to prepare for what was to come. John grabbed him by the T-Shirt, threw him to the floor and started hitting him across the back, yelling "So, it's my fault now that you're careless! It's my fault that I try to keep you safe! Haven't I taught you anything?!"

Dean's back was hurting – badly. In some places his skin split open, in others big bruises developed. He tried to bite back the screams that were on the brink of breaking out of him. However, after the 7th stroke he couldn't hold them back anymore. He was no stranger to pain but John had always tried to keep him out of the worst fights with monsters. And now it was him who was inflicting a kind of pain on him that he didn't know yet. The problem was: the more he screamed, the angrier his father seemed to get. After the 22nd stroke he couldn't bear it anymore.

"Dad, please stop! I'm sorry!" he managed to yell in between his screams of pain. And unbelievably, John stopped. But something was wrong. Dean could sense that this wasn't over yet. He turned around to look at his father but didn't dare to (and couldn't really) get up.

"Are you begging? Are you whining? You know you deserve this for your carelessness. I thought I had raised a stronger, braver son. Apparently, I still have to teach you that."

Now, Dean was really scared. He knew he wouldn't be able to satisfy his father. He was too weak and the way John spoke to him made him feel even weaker. But somehow John didn't keep going. Instead he put his belt back on still staring angrily at Dean.

"However, not now. I need to look for Sammy. But don't think I'll let you off so easy. From now on I want you to come to me every morning when you wake up. Then we'll try to make you tougher. I want no complaints. Every time you scream will earn you three more hits. We're gonna do this every day until we find Sam. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Dean replied in a small voice.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes, Sir!" Dean said louder this time.

"Now go, get cleaned up and then look for your brother. I don't wanna see you the rest of the day."

With these words John turned around and stormed out of the room. Dean heard the Impala speed away.

He stood there for a few minutes wondering whether his father would go through with everything he had just said. Knowing him, Dean was sure he would. It hadn't been the first time that he had been beaten by John. It seemed that the harder he tried to be a good son the more he screwed up. However, it had never been as bad as today. Usually, it would be like one punch and Dean had never complained because he knew that he had made mistakes and he was okay with it because, honestly, he had been asking for it sometimes. He tried never to make the same mistake twice in order to meet his father's expectations. This time wasn't any different. He knew he had screwed up and he was genuinely sorry. The only difference was that he hadn't expected his punishment to be so severe. But he knew he deserved it.

In this moment he made a decision: he would take it like a man. He would be strong for his father, he would try to be just as strong as he was, for John was the strongest and bravest man he knew and Dean would make him proud. That decision being made, he went to take a shower. The hot water stung on his back but he did his best to ignore it. 'Might as well just start practicing now' he thought. After the shower he assessed his injuries in the mirror. Big bruises were developing all over his back and there were 6 or 7 cuts were his skin had broken.

"Could be worse" he told himself. Then he got dressed and left the motel to search for Sam again. Not that he had any idea where to start. He had already looked everywhere but he decided to check all the typical teen hang-outs again. First the mall, then the playground and the park, even a few bars where he knew they didn't card. It was after 2 am by the time he got back to the motel. John was back, too, but he didn't even acknowledge Dean's presence.

"No luck," Dean said in an attempt to start a conversation. John ignored him, so he went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Once he lied down he found he couldn't sleep. He was very tired, completely exhausted but the expectation of what was gonna happen in the morning wouldn't let him rest. That and the fact that he had to be careful not to roll on his back. After 2 hours he finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning he woke up early but he kept his eyes closed not wanting to get up. It felt like he had only gone to sleep minutes ago. His father was busy making coffee. All of Dean's courage and resolution from the day before were washed away and left nothing but fear. A lump built in his throat because he was so nervous. The more he thought about it, the more anxious he became.

No. No! He would not be like a scared little child. He was a man and he would face what he knew he deserved. Before his courage left him again he got up, quickly put on his jeans but not his shirt (in the small hope that it wouldn't be so bad when his father saw the state his back was in already) and walked straight up to John.

John was still angry. It clearly showed on his face. He grabbed the belt that was hanging over the armrest of a chair. Dean flinched a little at the sight of it but he tried not to let it show on his face. He was determined not to show any weakness whatsoever.

"Ok, let's get this over with" he said, turned around and stood there with his back to his father waiting for the pain to come. And he didn't have to wait long. Without a word John started hitting him hard. Only it hurt much more today since his back was still so sore from the day before. Dean bit down hard on his lip to prevent himself from screaming. After the third lash his legs gave out and he fell to his knees. After the fifth he started to let out stifled moans and screams. After the tenth his eyes were watering from the pain after the twelfth he could feel blood running down his back. It was getting worse and worse and harder and harder to control himself. His lip was bleeding bad by now because he had bitten it open.

13…14….and that's when his control was gone, he couldn't take it anymore and let himself cry out. John stopped dead in his movements.

"Really? After just fourteen? I would have expected more from you," he said very disappointed and still very angry.

"Tough luck. I was gonna stop after fifteen today but what did I tell you yesterday?"

Silence.

"What did I tell you?"

Dean had thought that it was a rhetorical question. Apparently not…

"Three more for each scream" he answered now facing his father. He was glad to get a short break to recover. If only he could keep John talking for a little while longer.

"Good. Turn around."

"Wait, Dad – " he started but was interrupted.

"You gonna whine again?" John's voice sounded threatening. It made Dean angry. He hadn't begged, he hadn't complained, not once. He had held out for as long as he could.

"What do you expect? My back was already busted! You have no idea how this feels!"

Rage was in John's eyes.

"Turn around" he said very calmly which was so much worse than if he had yelled. Now Dean was scared again. He didn't think he had ever seen his father as angry as in the last 24 hours, he was just furious and acting it out on Dean.

"And not a sound," he added before roughly grabbing Dean by the shoulder and turning him around again.

The lashes were even harder now. There was no way Dean could keep quiet, no matter how hard he tried. First he managed to suppress a scream but by the second hit his composure was gone again. This only made John more furious and he kept going.

23…24…25...Dean was still crying out with every strike.

28…29…30…and suddenly it stopped.

"I'm embarrassed for you. You're nothing but a failure."

He threw the belt at Dean and left.

Dean's back was a bloody mess by now and throbbing with pain. Tears started building in his eyes and were soon streaming down his cheeks. _Nothing but a failure._ The words were ringing in his head and they hurt so much more than any cut or bruise on his back. He had tried…God, had he tried…but it had been too much. How was he gonna survive the next days?

Easy…by trying harder! He wasn't a failure and he was gonna prove it! Dean stood up wiping the tears from his face. He wasn't a baby.

 _Failure, failure, failure…_ maybe he _had_ failed today but he sure as hell wouldn't tomorrow.

After taking a painful shower he got dressed and went to look for Sammy again.

Again he came home late at night. John was already there. Dean wanted to head straight to bed.

"Come here, Dean" John said but his voice was soft. "Sit down."

Dean did as he was told, however, he didn't say anything because he didn't want to test his father's patience.

"There is something I want you to know. I did a lot of thinking today. And I know that you can't be around Sammy 24/7. You have to get food and things like that. So I want you to know that I am not mad anymore."

He must've misunderstood that, he was sure of it. His father was rarely so understanding. There was no way he would forgive and forget so easily.

"Okay – " Dean hesitated before he continued. "So, does that mean that I don't have to come to you tomorrow morning?"

Was it hope or was it wishful thinking?

"That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I need you to understand why I am doing this. It's not because I hate you or because I want to hurt you. I want to prepare you. What if someone - or something - captures you and tortures you for information? Two days ago you would have folded in the first ten minutes and given them everything. You need to be the strong one, you need to be strong for Sammy and protect him – always. So, yes, we're going to continue your training. And it's going to be tough for both of us but it is necessary. You can never let anyone break you. Protecting Sammy always comes first. Remember that."

Dean nodded. "Yes, Sir."

His father's pride was very important to him and he would do everything in his power to fulfill his mission and make him proud.

The next morning Dean was ready. He jumped out of bed, grabbed a belt and went straight to John who nodded in recognition. This time Dean was a lot better at controlling himself. It wasn't before lash number 25 that he gave in to the pain. Nevertheless, it made him feel like he had failed again even though John was trying to encourage him instead of scolding him. He stopped after 30 strokes looking at the bloody mess on the floor that was Dean.

"Come on, get up. You didn't do bad."

This was all the recognition he was going to get and he knew it. At least they were talking again. This day they went to look for Sam together.

Over the next days, their "training" became like a morning ritual. After day 4 Dean's back looked terrible. There wasn't an inch of unbroken skin left and it had begun to swell up pretty bad. Yet John refused to let him rest or take care of his wounds. Dean only hoped that they wouldn't get infected.

By day number six, Dean had finally learned to ignore the pain. Stroke after stroke he accepted with no more than a stifled groan. After 40 strokes John stopped and broke into a huge smile.

"You did it! Well done my son!" He was about to give Dean a pat on his shoulder but Dean flinched away from his hand.

"Oh, right. Well, let me take a look."

Dean was still recovering, trying to catch his breath but he got up and went to lie down on his bed so his father could examine his wounds. One cut was particularly deep where the buckle of the belt had struck his skin.

"That might need a few stitches. The rest we'll just disinfect and then we'll put some ice on it to keep the swelling down."

"Whatever." Dean was just happy that he could rest now.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you."

And now Dean couldn't help but smile. That's all he needed to hear to make him forget the pain. And it kept him happy through the treatment of his injuries even if it hurt. For once, he was allowed to rest. There was no point in going out to look for Sam again. They had turned all the surrounding towns upside down and there still wasn't any sign of him. He could be dead for all they knew.

Suddenly, John's cell phone rang.

"Hello? – Hey, Dan. – What? Where? – Okay, thanks."

"What's up, Dad?"

"That was an old friend of mine. He's seen Sam in Flagstaff walking into a cabin."

Dean jumped up and was out the door in no time, John at his heels. Never had Dean seen John drive this fast. It only took them five hours to get to Flagstaff which would have been seven hours away. They found the cabin in no time and sure enough, there Sam was lying on a couch with a half-eaten pizza on his belly, reading a comic book. He jumped when his family bolted in, a scared expression on his face. A dog greeted John and Dean, happily wiggling his tail. John ran towards Sam and locked him in a bear hug.

"Don't you ever do this to me again!" he said but was too happy to see that Sam was all right to get mad. Dean was happy, too, but he kept in the background. Sam looked at him.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. So you just ran away and decided not to come back? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

Now he was starting to get angry. Sam felt guilty and was looking for words.

"I'm sorry, I just needed some space. But I missed you. I'm really sorry, Dean. I promise I will never run off like that again, not without letting you know where I am." Sam looks sincerely sorry. Damn it, how could you not forgive him when he looked at you with these big puppy dog eyes of his?

Dean hugged him, wincing a little as Sam wrapped his arms around his back. In this moment - when he felt the pain shoot through his body - he swore that he would never let something like this happen to Sam. He would make sure of it. Protecting Sam always came first.

 **2010 – Flagstaff, Heaven**

"Is this Flagstaff?" Dean asked surprised.

"Yeah," Sam answered petting Bones, his Golden Retriever from that time.

"This is a good memory for you?"

"Yeah," Sam said laughing while he was feeding Bones some leftover Pizza, "I mean I was on my own for two weeks. I lived off of Funions and Mister Pibb."

"Wow…" Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. It had been eleven years but the memory was still edged into his brain. Sam, of course, had no idea.

"What?"

"You don't remember, do you?...You ran away on my watch. I looked everywhere for you, I thought you were dead. And when Dad came home…."

He didn't finish the sentence, though, because he didn't want Sam to know what had happened. Unfortunately, some of the memory must have shown on his face because Sam didn't just leave it at that.

"What, Dean? You knew that I had just needed some space. Ok, you didn't know where exactly I was but you knew that after our fight I just wanted to get away from you for a while. What are you not telling me?"

"You don't just take off for two weeks! You knew how worried I got, how worried Dad got! He blamed me…"

"What did he do? Did he get drunk and took it out on you?"

Dean didn't want to talk about this. He had a reason for never having told anyone about this. It had been his "battle".

"No, he didn't."

Of course, Sam didn't believe him.

"Tell me, Dean."

"He got angry, okay?! Really angry, I don't think I have ever seen him like that."

"What did he do to you?" Sam knew what it meant when John got angry. He had gotten into several fights with him over time and especially when he drank he tended to throw punches.

"He…taught me a lesson. One that I haven't forgotten to this day."

Sam had no idea what that meant so he waited for Dean to continue. Dean hated to speak bad about their father. It had been bad but in the end John's intentions had been good so he just had to explain that to Sam.

"He taught me to never give up, to never break and to always protect you from anything that could try to hurt you."

"And how did he do that?"

"By breaking me…he hit me with a belt until I couldn't take it anymore. He did that every morning for 6 days until I was finally able to resist. I wasn't allowed to scream but the sixth day was the first day that actually worked. That was the day that we found you."

Dean didn't want to look at Sam. He knew that his words had hurt him and made him feel guilty but he didn't want to hear an excuse. Dean would go through the experience again without blinking if it meant that it would help keep Sammy safe.

"My God…Dean, I'm sorry, I had no idea."

"Forget it, I don't wanna hear it. I don't regret it. What I've learned there came in handy a few times later in my life…. I just can't believe that this is a good memory for you."

"I never thought about it like that."

"Forget it, let's roll."

Dean left the room and left Sam feeling miserable. One last time he petted his dog, told him to stay and followed Dean out the door.


End file.
